Maria Szymanowska: Etudes and Nocturnes

Born in 1789, in Warsaw, Poland, Maria Szymanowska became an accomplished pianist in the early 19th century, starting with her 1810 debut. Within the year, she travelled to Paris where it is believed she performed privately in salons. Five years later, she began performing professionally, and in 1822 began touring. Szymanowska quickly became internationally acclaimed, admired by celebrities of the day such as Goethe and Rossini. She also found time to compose, writing over 100 pieces, almost all for piano.

First off, I was excited to see my choice was on vinyl at the library. I had not played a vinyl since high school, sitting for hours in my parent’s loft and listening to old Beatles and Elton John records that belonged to my mom. This "blast from the past" experience fit well with what Maria had in store for me. Her works described and discussed here show her brilliant style and love for the emerging techniques of her time, as well as her love with the traditions of the past. The best example of this is found in her Nocturne found on this album.

At first the Nocturne reminded me of the light, pleasant style of Mozart and other classical piano virtuosos, but that impression changed as it suddenly began moving faster and making a large crescendo, then sighing back, then modulating into a minor key. The interest and sound grew and ebbed throughout the work, giving almost a kaleidoscope view of the classical and romantic genres. When the album’s sleeve described her music as “transitional between the classical and romantic styles,” I did not realize it was going to happen so literally in one piece!

Szymanowska’s works are simply wonderful! They have a beautiful mix of Classical and Romantic styles in a pleasurable way. According to the record sleeve, Goethe agreed, as she had inspired some of his poems. Something, however, became unsettling to me as I read a review on her by Robert Schumann, also on the album’s sleeve:

We often heard this feminine Field, and to judge by these studies, not without reason… if we detect the vacillating woman in form and harmony, we also find the woman full of feeling, who has much more to say, if only she knew how.

Robert Schumann’s descriptions are blindingly clear that he dare not forget to mention Maria’s sex, first, in comparing her to Field in dubbing her the “feminine Field,” and then ending with a comment that sounds as if he wanted to say, “She’s pretty good… for a girl.” This I found to be insulting at first, but then decided to first put more research into what the statement could mean before drawing the conclusion that he was being blatantly sexist. I first listened to the John Field Sonatas suggested in the syllabus, and found the pieces to be quite beautiful as well, but comparatively dry in emotion and interest to the works of Szymanowska. This could be in part because of the performer’s interpretations, or because I was especially fond of Szymanowska’s style. I then found evidence that she was in fact a pupil of John Field, and was also dubbed the “Polish Field” for it. (Dawes, 1971) I was then able to excuse Schumann’s calling her the “feminine Field,” but to mention then twice more about her gender seems unnecessary. The only reason I could find for this was as discussed in class: the romantic views of women’s work being inferior to men’s.

Whether some of her works should be included in the canon is debatable. There is not doubt that I believe these works to be superb, but I believe that the canon should be a little more limited than it has been. After all, if we keep adding to it, then being named a canon is no longer outstanding.

But regardless, Maria Szymanowska deserves celebration.

Poke the Penguin!

Has nothing to do with Music History... maybe you should listen to Wagner while poking it or something.

Reply to: Maddalena Laura Sirmen

After reading about an opera, it was time to go back to what I know best: compositions by and for violinists. I was intrigued by what I learned about Maddalena Laura Sirmen in kmanolescu's Blog, but was curious to learn more about the history of this extraordinary woman composer.
As mentioned, Maddalena Sirmen was a Venetian woman, born (in 1745) and raised in Venice, so despite not coming from a musical family, she was surrounded by the musical world of Venice. This was especially true in Sirmen's times. Venice was the home of four Conservatori, or training schools of music for girls. These schools were dedicated to the training of impoverished girls the art of music.
Of the four schools in Venice – the Pietá (the same Pietá at which Antonio Vivaldi taught about 100 years earlier), the Medicanti, the Ospedaletto, and the Incurabili – Maddalena began attending the Medicanti at age seven. At all of these schools, the girls were required to learn all orchestral instruments, from violin to flute to bassoon, as well as skills in conducting and vocal training.
The students performed every Saturday and Sunday evening, either a Vesper or a motet, and then whole oratorios on feast days. The Conservatori performances were internationally famous, and were frequently graced with the presence of Royalties, ambassadors, diplomats, and even professional musicians.
In 1767, she married violinist and composer Lodovico Sirmen, and within a years' time, the newlywed Sirmens went on a successful European tour, performing and composing together. Maddalena’s known compositions are not only mainly, but all string compositions. Her forte in violin composition and performance is apparent in the music displayed in her Violin Concerto No. 5 in B-Flat.
As mentioned by kmanolescu, the Concerto consists of three movements, fast-slow-fast, which was true for most of her compositions. Her style is simplistic classical, by playing with candenzas, dynamics and chromaticism, but still has glimmers and inspiration from the Baroque period, as seen by her use of embellishments and rock steady rhythms. Her use of balance of tutti and solo makes it clear the form used by Vivaldi was still a strong influence over Venetian composers in the classical era. And like Vivaldi before her, Sirmen does not hesitate to give the soloist as much opportunity to display their skills as possible.
The first movement, the Maestoso, begins with a majestic announcement by ritornello, which eases into a lighter theme, then builds up again, then back to light, then going strong once more. Sirmen is a master with dynamics, by using them in a way that so perfectly conveys the mood, while still being stately. The soloist carries these themes well, in staying true with these themes, but giving the theme its own entity and life. Kmanolescu states it perfectly by saying, “It provided the listener with more to focus on. I think this concerto is an excellent example of Classical style because of the elegance and clarity.” This same elegance and clarity are found in the third movement, though is much calmer and admittedly leaves the listener in want.
The second movement, however, is my favorite. It reminds me, once more, of Vivaldi, but with the emotion found in the Classical era. The build-up of sound and gradual easing is composed beautifully in the solo. The use of double stops are impressive without being overwhelming, especially at the end where only the solo voice plays, and ends with a gentle support from the orchestra.
It is difficult to say whether this piece belongs in the canon or not, since it seems unfair that there is a good chance Sirmen and her pieces were simply not included because of her gender. Perhaps comparatively, it is not as great as the behemoths of the canon. However, it is a piece that reflects well the music of her time, and therefore a piece well worth the listening.